In Your Hands
by uncorazonquebrado
Summary: If someone holds your heart in the palm of his hand it’s only natural to make sure he doesn’t trip and fall." C/B one-shot. Rated M to be safe.


_**A/N** This has been on my jumpdrive for months, and my muse finally decided to make a guest appearance long enough for me to finish it._

_Set in season three, slightly AU I suppose. No spoilers as far as I know. _

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot (if I did I would never allow plot holes as big as the ones in 3x07, and Blair would never even consider asking Jack for help. ew)_

_Robin is awesome for beta:ing this for me, thank you!!!_

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Blair let out an indignant huff and flipped the page of a copy of Vogue, absentmindedly tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Her gaze danced over the fashion spread in front of her, but her heart wasn't in it. She was lying on her stomach, feet in the air, in a relaxed position she'd rarely allow anyone to see her in, besides _him_. But Chuck wasn't there like he was supposed to and Blair was alone in 821, positively seething, because Chuck was _two hours and twenty-seven minutes_ late and not answering his phone. The delicate, Italian lace that had been covered up using one of the hotel's plush bathrobes was the only sign that a change of plans had taken place. Had he been on time those scraps of lace would have ended up on the floor a long time ago.

A sound of someone moving outside the door to the suite caused Blair's head to snap up – diverting her attention from the latest fashion trends and hungry-looking models. The sound of shuffling feet was followed by a thump. The door-handle rattled, and more than one attempt to slide the key card through the slot was clearly audible in the otherwise silent room.

When the sound of the door finally opening could be heard Blair jumped off the bed in a hurry. With a disapproving frown firmly in place she walked around the bed, placing a hand on her hip for good measure. She was silently rehearsing the scolding she had prepared for him when his voice interrupted her inner rant.

"Blair-"

She had never realized her name could be said in so many different ways before 'Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck' happened, and that almost each and every version would put a smile on her face as long as it came from Chuck. But that version of 'Blair' didn't make her heart do pirouettes in her chest. That one felt like getting a bucket of freezing water poured over you and set her heartbeat racing. Speeding up, Blair turned the corner just in time to see Chuck trip over his own feet and stumble to his knees.

"Chuck!" Blair was kneeling by his side in a heartbeat. Her hands fluttered like butterfly wings over his face, his shoulders, his arms - making sure that he was uninjured. She couldn't find a single scratch. The lack of evident injury didn't calm her one bit, but only added to the feeling of being drenched in cold water. Because when there's no visible sign of hurt on the outside - the wound is on the inside, out of reach and much more painful than any shallow laceration.

Blair still remembers how Nate once referred to her as 'maternal' and that she didn't agree with him then. She still doesn't. If anything, she's Chuck-ternal and that's a whole different thing. It's all about self-preservation. If someone holds your heart in the palm of his hand it's only natural to make sure he doesn't trip and fall.

"Blair, I-" Chuck's hand came up to close around the arm she had wrapped tightly around him and Blair experienced a breathless moment of déjà vu – for a second transferred back to her bedroom on the night of the funeral.

"Shh, it's alright." She whispered against the skin of his neck, her nose buried in his hair. All her anger long gone and replaced with nothing but a love and need to protect so fierce it made her breath hitch. "I'm right here."

Once upon a time young Blair Cornelia Waldorf pictured herself as a princess; like the ones in the storybooks her father read to her every night before she went to bed. As she grew older her father stopped reading her stories but Blair's dreams remained the same; if she was pretty enough, intelligent enough and funny enough, then she would be rescued from the mundane life of a UES princess by her knight in shining armour and the two of them would go on to live happily ever after. 'Happily ever after' became the foundation of all her hopes and dreams – the idea on which she built her entire future. But her designated knight turned out not to be that very charming, along came the dark prince and Blair learned something that she had never been heard in any of her favourite fairytales. She learned that who you are isn't limited to what you believe you _should_ be, and that it's possible to be more than what you ever believed yourself capable of.

With Chuck in her life Blair became both the queen and the knight in shining, Chanel armour. She gets her hands dirty for him, crawls through mud and battles dragons. And even at times when her nail polish is chipped, her dress covered in mud and her face black as soot - Chuck still wants her, still _loves_ her – and the notion still halts Blair's universe every time she thinks of it. Chuck and Blair take turns saving each other because they are both the only one who can really tell when the other needs saving. They know each other and understand the inner workings of the other's mind like no one else does, and that has become their greatest weapon as well as their biggest weakness. No one can hurt Blair like Chuck, and vice versa, because no one has ever mattered as much. It scared her beyond words, and she knew that he felt the same and that it petrified him too; they suffered through months of terrified '_what else is there?_'s and '_maybe in the future_'s because of it.

"I-" Chuck choked out, his grip of her arm bordering on painful but Blair couldn't care less. She focused on nothing except for the tremor that transferred from his body to hers, and the whisper of his breath against her shoulder.

Reaching out, Blair cupped his cheek in her hand and tilted it up so that he faced her. "Hey," She spoke in a hurried whisper, tightening her grip as Chuck struggled against her touch. "Hey, what's wrong?" She enquired, ignoring the panicky beating of her own heart against her ribcage, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone as she prodded gently; "Look at me."

Eyes glazed over from alcohol and reduced to black, bottomless pools of grief met hers and Blair relaxed a little. Strangely enough she found the pain in his eyes comforting. It meant he was still there, still with her. It meant that she wouldn't be waking up in the small hours of the morning with nothing but a note left where her heart should have been. Pain and grief and drunken debauchery she could deal with.

Blair swallowed hard to rid herself of the lump forming in her throat. This wasn't her time to be weak. Chuck began to inch away, freeing himself of her grip and diverting his gaze. Blair instinctively tightened her hold on his face further – her fingers curling around his jaw line, her other hand resting on his shoulder to keep him from getting to his feet. Moments passed without a single word or glance being exchanged. Blair held her breath, waiting for him to move, to say something. When he didn't, she opened her mouth to speak but then changed her mind and instead placed a soft kiss on his lips.

It was like lifting the lid off a jar and releasing the swarm of insects trapped inside. Chuck turned his head around, kissing her back with desperation as he slid his hand up to fist in her hair. A surprised gasp escaped Blair's lips and Chuck took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue caressing hers as she lost her balance under his onslaught. Tumbling backwards she soon found herself flat on her back on the floor, Chuck's weight pressing down on her. Catching on to what was going on, her hand travelled from his shoulder to his neck. The kiss was messy, lips and teeth and tongue, but passion still simmered between them and Blair could feel her body instantly responding to his touch in spite of the circumstances. She angled her head, deepening the kiss, at the same time as Chuck began tearing at the belt of the robe she wore. His hands were rough, leaving a trail of fire across her body as they roamed over her skin. Rendered almost immobile by his weight pressing down on her form, Blair let out an impatient sound and rubbed her thigh against the prominent bulge in his pants, pleased when she was rewarded with a strangled groan.

Chuck's hand slid between the lace of her bra and her skin, his fingers brushing over her nipple as he palmed her breast. Blair arched her back in a silent invitation for him to undo the clasp of her hindering bra, but the thought was erased from her head when his tongue continued his hand's ministrations. Chuck was struggling to undo his belt buckle and pants with one hand and when his laboured breathing became more strained; Blair reached down to help him. Eager for him to fill her to the hilt, melt together with him until she could no longer tell where she ended or he began because as long as she did - as long as he was buried inside of her - she could keep him from crumbling to pieces.

Pushing the lace of her thong out of the way, Chuck plunged into her without warning and Blair nearly let out a pained sound at the intrusion, forcing herself to breath steadily in and out as she waited for the feeling to subside. She hadn't been fully ready, but the first stings of discomfort didn't last long, quickly disappearing as Chuck began moving and she moved her hips to meet his thrusts.

It was erratic and uncoordinated; stripped of the normally playful innuendos, dirty remarks and whispered words of praise, stripped of everything except for the aching need of something familiar and safe and _alive_.

Chuck kept his face buried in the crock of her neck, his lips and teeth marring her skin. Blair craned her neck to allow him access, for once not bothered about visible love marks, biting her lip against the slight pain and concentrating on the waves of sparkling pleasure cascading down her spine.

It didn't last very long before Chuck emptied himself inside of her, breathing a strangled groan against her skin before collapsing on top of her. He was still breathing unevenly and Blair ran her fingers slowly up and down his back as she waited for him to recover. She didn't speak, too focused on enjoying the pleasure of having him close, but immediately regretted her silence when she felt him tense up and the hand fisted in her hair loosening its grip.

When he made a move as if to pull out she hooked her leg around him. Seconds of struggle followed and Blair found herself forced to give in and let him go. Her entire being whined at the loss of contact, and she was quick to follow him when he sat back up.

"I'm sorry."

Blair shivered, and not only from the chilly air hitting her skin damp with sweat now that he was no longer keeping her warm, but from the amount of self-loathing in his voice. Chuck raised his head to look at her, but he didn't get that far. The visible wince told her he'd noticed the mark he'd left on her skin, and her hand shot up to touch the bruised skin.

"Fuck. Blair, I'm so sorry. I-"

"It's okay-" The fiery need to protect him from pain and the world and himself came back full force and Blair got to her knees, reaching out for him as the remains of their tryst trickled down her thighs. "I'm okay-"

"No." The way he shielded himself from her touch, eyes still glued to the floor and shoulders rigid, made her chest ache. He stumblingly made his way to his feet, swaying unsteadily as he zipped his pants back up with shaking hands. "That was…I…you-"

"Chuck," That time as she reached out for him, he swatted her hand away. It didn't hurt, but their hands connected with an audible sound and Blair winced at the wild look of regret in his eyes as he spun around. He looked so lost in that second that it was hard to look at him.

"I should-" he made a move as to leave, and Blair had suddenly had enough.

"Don't you dare!" She hissed. Don't you dare use me – _us_ - as an excuse to shut me out, left unspoken and lingered in the air between them. Chuck was smart enough to freeze in his steps and look at her. She had to fight for the steel to stay in her voice because she knew that tenderness or compassion wouldn't get her very far in her mission to penetrate that thick veneer of self-loathing he'd covered himself with. "Did I tell you to stop?" She snapped, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, an expectant look in her eyes. "Did I?" She repeated and when he didn't reply she answered the question for him, "No, I didn't. So don't you _dare_ walk out that door, Bass!"

"I…I-" Chuck never got beyond that first word before giving in, closing his mouth and his eyes and his heart and his entire being off from her. Access denied. When he turned his back to her and walked over to the suite's large windows, Blair had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill and silently point out to herself that at least he hadn't stormed out of the room. Getting to her feet she tied the belt of her robe firmly around her frame with trembling hands.

Chuck was still over by the window, leaning on one arm against the glass he stood there motionless; staring blankly out into the dark, New York night. She approached him slowly, carefully, as one would an injured animal, coming to a halt behind him. Folding her arms over her chest to keep from reaching out and touching him, knowing it wouldn't be the wisest choice, she studied him in the lights from the city below them and the dim glow from the lamp on the dresser by the door. Shadows fell on his face, accentuating the sharp angles she knew so well. The points and planes she could feel under her fingertips like phantom pain at any given time of day. Her gaze followed the curve of his shoulder, the tiny hairs at the back of his neck and the sharp, cutting shadow of his cheek bone. There was a hint of stubble on his cheek - he would have to shave in the morning - and the one of his hands not resting against the cool surface of the window was clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Blair diverted her gaze from him, taking a minute to take in the view - or at least pretend to do so - while she waited for him to relax.

Not demanding answers from him - even when his silence and her inability to help was painful - because he wasn't ready to offer her any, was torture for Blair. The burden of knowing him, knowing all about his worse deeds and darkest thoughts and secret dreams, weighed heavily on her shoulders – almost pushing her through the floor and down all the stories and down into the dark, wet soil underneath the hotel. Because knowing him enabled her to imagine all the thoughts running through his mind as he stood silent as a statue beside her in the dimly lit room, and know that she had to wait until he was ready to tell her about them.

Blair knows that both Chuck and she are selfish creatures. They are selfish because they have both grown used to not having anyone really look out for them and care for them without expecting something in return; be it perfection or to bring back dead mother's from the grave. They want and need and ache for _everything_ and make sure they get it in whatever way it takes, because they both know what it feels not to get the things that should be free and granted them without having to ever even _ask_. That's why the consuming, mind-blowing and most of all completely un-selfish love she feels for the broken man beside her never ceases to amaze her. Because for him, and for no one else, Blair would give up anything. For the first time in her life she loves someone more than she loves herself and it is truly a terrifying prospect. She'd even give up on them if he wanted her too, even though she would probably die in the process.

The uncalled for fear of losing him was what spurred her back into action. Chuck startled when her hand brushed against his before taking it in both of hers and forcing him to relax beneath her touch. She slid her hand into his, placing her other one on the back of it; creating a safe cocoon around a part of him that wasn't out of reach and bleeding inside his chest.

"I lost the company 60 million dollars today."

It's her turn to jump, surprised by his quiet, raspy confession. She turned towards him, opening her mouth to speak, but quickly changed her mind and placed an encouraging kiss on his shoulder instead. The way he squeezed her hand in return sent the butterflies dancing in her stomach.

"60 million _fucking_ dollars." He shakes his head in disbelief, and she doesn't stay quiet this time.

"You'll earn it back in no time, Chuck." She reassures him with the belief in someone's abilities that only comes from loving them, "You're still new at this, you're allowed set backs every now and then, the board will understand."

Had she not been looking straight at him she might have missed the almost invisible shake of his head. She mentally slapped herself for jumping to conclusions and thinking such a trivial thing as money was behind the pain in his eyes. "What, then?" She said, stepping closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder in a silent plea for him to let her in. "Talk to me."

"The anniversary's next week." Chuck began, and Blair racked her brain for any clue to what kind of anniversary he was referring to. Her birthday was next week, but he better not have been drinking himself into a stupor because of that, or the anniversary of a certain limo incident that was always celebrated in a fitting manner, inside aforementioned vehicle.

"Twenty-one years of Bass Industries," he continued with sarcasm in his voice. "It hasn't even been a year, and today we lost a deal worth 60 million dollars because the Japanese investors don't like the company's new 'spoilt, playboy millionaire' CEO."

He didn't mention the other reason, but Blair could read between the lines. Chuck didn't really care about the Japanese investors or what boring business men in off-the-rack suits think of him. He didn't care about losing tens of thousand of dollars.

Chuck cared about making his dead father proud and he cared about last years Rangers tickets – the ones that gave access to a private box for the entire season – that were still in the bedside table on the right-hand side of the bed. He cared about his father wanting to get to know him, and fate being cruel enough to take away any chance of that by sending a truck crashing into the side of a limousine on a cold, December night less than a year ago.

She moved so that she was facing him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Chuck's eyes once again fell on the mark on her neck and he winced, trying to take a step back, but Blair tightened her grip. "No."

He actually listened to her that time and stilled in her arms before tilting his head to place a soft kiss on the bruise. "I really am sorry."

"And I really do love you."

It might have been a case of emotional blackmail to use the ILY card, but she was tired and her head was pounding and her heart ached for him, and she just wanted to slip back between the covers of his bed and feels his arms wrapped around her.

"Why?" Chuck replies instantly, but it's far from the venomous '_…why would you do that?_" he threw at her with the first time she told him those long awaited three words, eight letters.

"Because you love me."

It is one of the reasons - four words, sixteen letters – why she loves him, and the only one she believed he'd accept at that moment because no matter how much Chuck might hate himself he _loves_ Blair and could never ever again turn that into something bad and not enough.

He offered her a shadow of a smile - a barely visible tug of his lip and a momentary brightening of the darkness in his eyes - and it was all the answer she needed then. Exhaustion was written all over his face together with the remains of a pain Blair wasn't sure she'd ever be able to vanquish completely but that only made her love him more.

"Come on," She murmured, and towed him after her as she made her way over to the bed. He stumbled a little, and she didn't know if it was from fatigue or his abundant intake of scotch, but she didn't care.

Once over by the bed she turned to him, ridding him of his shirt and ascot while he unbuckled his belt and got out of his trousers. Her robe quickly followed his clothes, and Blair then pulled the covers aside and directed him towards the waiting bed. The sigh that escaped his lips as his head hit the pillow warmed her heart, and it didn't take long before she was nestled closely by his side.

Chuck was asleep within seconds, and Blair inched closer still, basking in content. Yawning broadly, she reached out for his hand and took it in hers. She uncurled his fingers, examining his palm closely and placing a kiss in the middle of it, before intertwining their fingers. Her heart in the palm of his hand, his heart in the palm of hers. Hand in hand and heart against heart. Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck.

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_Thank you for reading!_

_Review on your way out?!_


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